


I Want To Say Hello

by there_are_monsters_in_the_sea



Category: Original Work
Genre: Asshole counselor, Body Dysphoria, Bullying, Depression, Developing Relationship, F/M, Gender Dysphoria, Homophobic Language, Mental Health Issues, My Chemical Romance References, Online Friendship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic! at the Disco References, Past Abuse, Platonic Relationships, Therapy, Transgender Characters, Transphobia, Twenty One Pilots Reference, crying. lots of crying, extreme anxiety, lgbtq+
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-01-05 02:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18356756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/there_are_monsters_in_the_sea/pseuds/there_are_monsters_in_the_sea
Summary: Lane (formerly Elise) is a transgender boy. Allie (formerly Alexander) is a transgender girl. They both feel they are in the wrong body. Suffering from mental illness, as well as dysphoria, they each feel lonely. Upon unlikely chance, they meet online and become fast friends. But what happens when Allie transfers to Lane's school, and neither recognizes the other. Will their online friendship stand the test of real life?





	1. Chapter 1:Lane

The bell, in all its annoying glory and volume, rang signifying the end of lunch. I sighed, put my sketchbook away, and walked toward Ray's office. Ray is the school counselor. He also happens to be a total ass. He's transphobic. Fun for me. 

As I walk to his office, I arrive a few minutes early. I pull out my phone, and open my camera. I look so FEMALE today. Unfortunately. My dysphoria screams at me "You're worthless". Although, depression does deserve some credit. I open Instagram, log onto my account, and click on "new post". I begin to type, and the words flow easily. 

"Waking up everyday is a battle. Some days I win. Others I don't. If 100 people saw this, maybe 1 of you would understand what it is like to be like me. Transgender. Stuck in a body that doesn't match my brain. I look in a mirror and I can't believe the GIRL I see standing there. Hoodies and earbuds can only hide so much. I'm so tired of being like this. Someone I'm not." 

I look up when I hearth door click open. I turn off my phone, and stare into Ray's smile. What a liar. I walk into the tiny white room, and prepare for an hour of ignorance and silence. See, I don't talk. Ever. If I have to respond, I write it down. My words are all spoken in ink. Just as I thought, the session begins with the ever obnoxious, "How are you doing?" I stare at him, but say nothing. After 58 minutes more of pointless questions, he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

"Look, Elise. We need a plan here. You cannot avoid speaking forever. You can play pretend for so long, but eventually reality is going to hit. And it's going to hurt. But you already know that, don't you Elise? You might not want to accept it, but we both know those hoodies are not because you are cold." He stares at me, his dark eyes meeting my blue ones. 

I'm shocked.

I never thought he would go quite so far. But he did, and I am bitter. I look at the clock, thankful for the hour being over, and grab my backpack and bolt. I head in the direction of my classroom, before deciding to skip altogether. I head to my bench on the far side of the yard. No one dares come here. They know I do. I pull out my phone, and unlock it before reaching for my earbuds. However, before I do, I hear a light chime, signifying the text alert of Instagram. The noise surprises me, who would be messaging me? The answer is also a surprise.

"make.it.pink responded to your post, and would like to send a message. Accept?" 

Bored, I click accept. This user does not write brief texts. The paragraph I receive makes my mouth drop more with each word.

"Hello. My name is Allie. However, to everyone else, it is something else. Like you, as you mentioned in your post, I am transgender. I suffer from dysphoria, as I assume you do. I also have extreme anxiety and get panic attacks. I don't mind though. People often see things like dysphoria and anxiety as bad things, and sometimes they are, but not always. They give us a gift. Dysphoria lets you see the world from two gendered mindsets. The one you fit in and belong with, and the one you don't. Anxiety allows you to create something that represents your pain. I love music. It is one of the best forms of therapy in my opinion. My Chemical Romance and Twenty One Pilots, in particular, are put in a different light when you are suffering as I am. Anyway, I am sending this for a reason, not just to discuss music tastes and mental illness. I wanted to ask you a very important question. Would you like to be friends? I am lacking in those, especially those with gender-related issues. If you do, message me back. Be friends that is. Just in case you can't read a username, my account is 'make.it.pink'. A great line from Sleeping Beauty. If you don't want to be friends, that's okay too. In that case, just don't respond.

Sincerely,  
Allie"

I am shocked for the second time today.

This girl, Allie? She is like me. Holy shit, she's like me. I clutch my phone and drink it in for a moment. Then I remember her question. Friendship? I'm not so sure... I'm not the best at that. However, how can I pass up an opportunity to befriend someone who is like me. Has dysphoria. I ponder for a moment, and decide to write her back.

"Hi Allie. I'm Lane. Thank you for that paragraph of a response. I'm not much of a writer, but I will say this: I would love to be your friend. I have wanted a friend like me for a very long time now, and here you are. So, if your offer still stands, the answer is yes.

Sincerely,  
Lane (ocean_eyes_boy)"

 

I think for a moment, but before the uncertainty and fear kick in, I press send. She's not online right now, but I still refresh the page several times. Sighing, I realize I'll just have to wait to hear her response. The cursed bell rings again, and I give in to the wise choice to go to class. I pick up my bag and walk to my elective class. Brookview may be a shit school, but it is pretty. A gentle breeze ruffles my hair as I cross the yard. I smile. Something I haven't done for a very long time. Maybe the world isn't as bad as I thought. Not with people like Allie in it. I'm looking forward to learning more about her, and sharing stories. 

This entire situation, though it makes me happy as could be, I have a dark shadow of foreboding about it. But, she's just an online trans girl, right?

Little did I know, I was wrong.


	2. Allie

Why/ Why did I do it? Answer his post. And then text him directly?! What is wrong with me?

A text alert chimes on my phone. Is it him? Do I want it to be?

Maybe...

Sighing, I turn the volume up on my earbuds. 

"In fact I'm only at it again as an addict with a pen."

My favorite lyrics.

The teacher, who has been writing on the board Xs and Ys and all sorts of strange and confusing symbols, now glares at me and opens her mouth.

Out of boredom, I pull out one earbud, and look her dead in the eye.

"Yes?'

This is her final straw. She slams down her marker, clip-clops her heels over to her desk, and forcefully dials a number.

Screeching into the receiver, she yells at someone from the office to come pick me up.

A few minutes later, when a higher-up does, she smirks and goes back to her painfully boring lesson.

The hallway is silent except for my footsteps and those of the aide. 

He sighs at me, opens his mouth as if to speak, but then remains silent.

When we get to the office, the principal doesn't even look up when I walk in.

"Good morning Alexander."

My first thought is "That is not my name." But to her, and the rest of the world, it unfortunately is.

She gives me a short lecture about being disruptive and wasting her precious time, then stares at me and asks

"Why are you here today?"

I roll my eyes, the response is dull and practiced.

"I was being disrespectful." 

"Yes, that it is part of it."

"Then what else?" I narrow my eyes.

She sighs, and stamps a paper. 

"Alexander, you are hereby expelled."

I shoot up out of my seat.

"On what fucking grounds?!" I cry angrily

She stares at me coolly. Bitch.

"Disrespecting multiple staff members, multiple times, using electronics in class, foul language, and I believe you know the last one?"

I glare defiantly.

"Presenting yourself in a feminine way, and exhibiting behaviors that are typically female."

Stupid fucking catholic school.

"Fine. But for the record, fuck you. Fuck this school. I never belonged here, and I never will." I mutter, and grab my bag.

I walk out, and she doesn't try and stop me.

 

As I walk home, (It's not far), a single tear falls.

I brush it away angrily.

I do not cry. Never again. I'm not weak. Not like I used to be. I have to be strong. That's the only way to survive. 

I put my earbuds back in, the time blasting something angry and vengeful.

 

When I do tell my parents, they sigh and say "We just have to try again."

I look down, suddenly ashamed.

"Mom, I'm sorry."

She sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose, and says simply,

"We'll discuss it later

I nod mutely, slight fear and anxiety bubble up.

I head to my room, awaiting my mother.

She finally climbs the flight of stairs and open the door two down on the left.

"...hi mom..."

She gives me a weak smile. 

"Up for talking?"

I nod, toying with my fingers.

She gently reaches over and takes one hand.

"Baby, your principal called me."

I look up nervously.

"She told me that you were misbehaving in class, which I understand. You are a teenager with anxiety."

I nod again, knowing she isn't done. 

"She also told me that you have been presenting in a typically feminine way at school. Is there something you want to tell me?"

I shut my eyes tightly, and give the slightest nod.

"Okay. What is it?"

I should note, I do love and trust my mother. So, maybe telling her the truth isn't such a bad idea...?

"W-What's my name mom?" 

My voice quivers slightly.

She gives me a look that seems to burn away my fear.

"The name you were born with is Alexander."

I nod shakily.

"But,"

She continues,

"Is Alexander still the name you want to go by?"

I want to shake my head. I want that more than anything. 

But I am terrified.

She doesn't know...

And I will never tell her.

So, I grit my teeth, and wordlessly nod.

I hate myself for it. 

She gives me a look that is so unsure, so worried, and in that one moment,

...I know she doesn't believe me.

I turn away, unable to hold her gaze.

She reaches out to touch by shoulder, but I freeze and tense up. 

"...Alex?"

I shake my head; tears well up but I brush them away so she doesn't see.

"Okay. I won't push if you don't wanna talk about it."

 

As I drift off, my last thought is of the boy, who's text I have yet to answer.

I give a small smile at the thought. Maybe there is someone out there who could understand me.

My mind, though often chaotic and violent, allows me tonight to drift into a murky sleep.


	3. Lane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into Lane's past.
> 
> Trigger Warning for abuse/attempted sexual abuse, depression, self harming

I sigh, drop my phone on my chest, and close my eyes.

I'm tired. But a strange kind of tired. One that is perpetual. Sleep doesn't fix it.

I roll over, and my eyes widen as I realize its been 6 months.

6 months since the night that changed who I am forever.

And I can't ever get the feeling off my skin.

I'm a sophomore now. It was the summer after freshman year. The memories flood my head, and I have no choice but to watch the movie of images and noise of the terror and guilt from the night of that party.

 _-_ A house party, Lane is 15 at the time-

_I look around and blink several times._

_This music is so damn loud._

_I catch Skylar's eye and smile._

_At least I'm not completely alone here._

 

_An hour passes In a blur._

_There are seniors and juniors here._

_One of the juniors looks at me and smirks._

_I swallow hard and look down._

 

_He walks over to me, and the second he opens his mouth I know he's drunk._

_"Heyyyy beautiful"_

_His words slur together._

_He bends down and whispers in my ear_

_"Let me take care of you."_

 

_I should note, I'm fifteen. I know what sexual abuse is. But he's a junior right? He's as underage as I am._

_No. Thats not how it went._

 

_One minute I was firmly on the floor, the next I was being carried bridal style up the stairs._

_I try to yell out._

_I try to scream._

 

_My head is pounding._

_The thick stench of alcohol and cigarette smoke clouded my mouth and nose._

_The music is so loud._

 

_I'm thrown onto a bed._

 

_Where is Skylar?_

 

_I can't even think._

_What is happening?_

 

_I'm in a hoodie and my jeans._

 

_And then I'm not._

 

_I try._

_I try so hard._

 

_Try to scream._

_Try to push him off._

_Try to move._

 

_I can't._

 

_I stop fighting._

 

_My head feels like its splitting._

 

_I hear a belt click and a zipper._

 

_A wet kiss is pressed to my neck._

 

_I push up, trying my best to get away._

 

_He pushes me down onto the pillows._

 

_My voice finally works._

 

_I scream at the top of my lungs. Again and again._

 

_He tries to silence me, and it eventually works._

 

_My head lolls back._

 

_I can't fight this anymore._

 

_I surrender, praying to a God I don't know if I believe in._

 

_Please._

 

_Please help me._

 

_Please._

 

_Time is sluggish, and cant even think._

 

_More sloppy kisses._

 

 

_I_

 

_Cant_

 

_fight_

 

_anymore._

 

 

_Then, I hear an enraged scream from the door._

 

_I try to sit up, and my vision goes fuzzy._

 

_I vaguely see Skylar and her boyfriend._

 

_Someone is screaming._

 

_A huge weight is pulled off of me._

 

_I finally can breathe._

 

_Skylar rushes to my side while her boyfriend starts beating the shit out of the junior._

 

_She brushes my hair back._

 

_I sob and vomit all over the floor._

 

_She holds me while I cry._

 

_"Shhh. I'm here"_

 

_More yelling._

 

_Skylar's boyfriend yanks the junior by his shirt and tackles him on the stairs._

 

_I can't remember anything else._

 

 

 

 

 

_A few days later, Skylar comes to my house._

 

_As usual, my parents are away._

 

_She gives me a sympathetic look._

 

_I cant remember what she said._

 

_I remember breaking down and her tucking me into newly washed sheets._

 

_I remember being fed by spoon and drinking tea and water._

 

_I remember cooling cloths on my forehead._

 

_I remember feeling cared for._

 

_I owe Skylar._

 

_I owe Skylar more than I can ever repay._

 

_To this, she says simply,_

 

_"I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner. You don't owe me."_

 

_I nod, and slip back into a hazy sleep._

 

_Something like ten days later, Skylar stops coming over as often._

 

_She texts me often, and leaves me notes and food, but she has to return home._

 

 

 

_A month later, after one terrible breakdown, I shake violently and reach for one of the pencil sharpeners I stole off  Skylar ._

 

_I snap it apart, and with shaking hands drag the blade against my forearm._

_The cuts are not deep, but they bleed._

 

_I finally fall into a drowsy state._

 

 

 

 

_The next morning, I clean my wounds._

_Skylar is going to be disappointed._

 

_I don't tell her._

 

_I wear long sleeves the rest of summer._

 

_I have not said a word since that morning._

 

-present day-

 

I roll up my sleeve and look at all the marks.

 

I run my hand over the scars, and sigh.

 

Tears slip from my eyes, and I let them fall.

 

I'm so so sorry Skylar.

 

I finally drift into sleep, dreaming of the girl who hasn't yet answered.

 

 


End file.
